


I Can't Stop Thinking About You

by champagne_enema



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14846120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagne_enema/pseuds/champagne_enema
Summary: Lance giggles, high and nervous. “Can I? Uhm. Can I blow you?"Shiro's brain stops working.“What?”





	I Can't Stop Thinking About You

**Author's Note:**

> Lance gives Shiro head. That's literally all this is. Because apparently all I wanna do when I get high is write smut,,,, I'm a mess rn lmao,,, and this is my first fic that is set in cannon universe so YIKES,,,,,,
> 
>  
> 
> title from Warmth by Bastille

Training tends to make Shiro feel _tense_. While attacking the gladiator will usually calm Keith down, it kinda does the opposite when it comes to Shiro. He freezes up sometimes, his arm glowing that sickening violet hue, the screams of thousands of Galra thundering in his ears. Chanting in their rough language, mostly growls. Feeling the squelch of blood beneath his finger tips.

He hates it, wishes his mind would just _stop_ , because he really wants to just train. He wants to let go like Keith does.

The gladiator is the worst, so when Shiro trains he usually does it with another opponent. Something about the faces of one of his teammates, the expression behind the eyes as opposed to the emotionless stare of the gladiator reminds him of exactly where he is.

Usually it's Keith, sometimes Hunk because they're around the same size, but hardly ever Pidge or Lance.

But now Keith is gone with the blade, and Hunk is off doing God knows what, so Shiro is stuck with the gladiator.

And it's-- well, it _sucks._ But he's got pent up energy so he plows through because he can't focus on anything else but the throbbing in his skull and the need to _fight._ Like an itch under his skin.

After an hour of useless training, Shiro calls it quits, because it's not really helping at all. The itch is still there and he's so pent up, but nothing is helping and training till he passes out is a _terrible_ idea.

He decides to hit the showers.

It's late, so he's not expecting anyone to be there. He undresses quickly, avoiding the sight of his scarred body because it makes him uncomfortable, and turns on one of the shower heads.

It flickers to life and he slips under it, the water plastering his floof to his forehead. He shuts his eyes and shoves his face under the spray, steam enveloping him.

Shiro wants to relax, _needs_ to relax, but he just _can't._

When he looks down, he realizes his dick is at half mast.

 _Fuck_.

He didn't think he was aroused, but maybe all his tension just-- went to his libido? Shiro doesn't know; all he knows is that he's frustrated, wired up, and _horny._

He wraps his human hand around his length and pumps, kinda quick and ruthless. He doesn't want to draw it out, he just wants to get off and be done with it.

His cock hardens under his hand, perking up at the attention he's giving it. Shiro hasn't jerked off in awhile, he can hardly find the time anymore, so maybe that's why. Maybe he's just pent up sexually and his body labeled it as a different sort of tension.

He doesn't make a sound, hand jerking in quick movements, slick from the water. His head leans against the cool tile wall for balance, and he breathes out a sigh into his bent arm.

He imagines bare tan skin and blue eyes looking up at him, glazed over from pleasure, and--

No. Shiro refuses to jerk off to the image of Lance. His dumb crush is already miserable enough, he doesn't need to fuel it with his depraved imagination.

But his brain has a different idea.

He can almost feel Lance's smooth hands, unblemished, wrapped around his length. He can picture Lance's face, flushed but still smirking as he works him closer to release. Or maybe Lance on all fours, back arched and pretty hole on display, keening as Shiro fucks into him.

Shiro's dick twitches in his hand, and he let's out a soft moan.

_bang!_

His hand freezes, back tenses at the noise, and his head slowly turns in fear. Fuck, fucking _fuck._

It's-- Lance.

The slightly shorter boy stands there, in his silky blue robe, mouth gaping in shock. A bottle of what Shiro assumes to be conditioner lies on the floor, the source of the noise.

Lance must've come in for a shower, saw Shiro fucking his own fist shamelessly, and dropped his bottle in shock.

Shiro feels his face burning, mirroring Lance's, and _he can't breathe._

“I, uhh-- sorry, I'll go, I didn't mean to--” Lance trails off, stuttering voice cracking. His gaze flickers down to Shiro's still very erect dick and his face, if possible, burns brighter.

_Did Lance just check out my dick?_

“Wow, you're big,” Lance blurts, before realizing what he just said and gaping even further. “Fuck, I didn't, _shit!_ I'm sorry, I don't know what is _wrong_ with me.”

Shiro licks his lips. He takes a moment. “Thanks?” he says, though it's more of a question.

Lance giggles, high and nervous. “Can I? Uhm. Can I blow you?”

Shiro's brain stops working.

“ _What?”_

Lance winces. “I mean, uh, let's just forget this happened,” he laughs again,though this time it's more frantic. “Yeah, I'm just gonna go--”

“Wait,” Shiro says.”Give me a minute.”

Lance obliges, tapping his foot anxiously. Shiro attempts to collect his thoughts, because he's 90% sure this is some crazy wet dream. He must've passed out during training or something.

“Let me get this straight. You want to-- to, suck my dick?”

Lance groans into his hand and slowly nods his head, blush peeking through his fingers.

Shiro _can't breathe, what the fuck, how is this even real--_

Shiro fights past the lump in his throat and says “Okay,”

Lance removed his hand from his face and gapes at Shiro. His eyes are impossibly wide as he blinks. “What?”

“I said go ahead. If you-- If you really want to, I mean.”

Lance moves forward in a trance, eyes no longer on Shiro's face but his still very hard cock. He licks his lips and looks back up.

“Alright. Fuck, yeah, okay. Sure. I'll suck your dick.” He's rambling, but Shiro can't really complain because right after finishing his sentence he wraps his fingers around his length.

Shiro inhales sharply, eyeing the contrast between the flushed pink skin of his cock and Lance's honeyed fingers.

He pumps him, slow, before dropping to his knees. Shiro can't do anything but stare as Lance breathes hot and heavy on his head, before licking it with a pretty pink tongue.

He licks slowly but surely, running circles around the head and dipping into the slit, and Shiro couldnt stop his grunt if he tried.

Lance meets his eye at the noise and grins before sucking in the whole head.

He takes his time to lick up and down the length, getting it sloppy and wet with saliva. He leaves open mouthed kisses against the sides, tongue sliding against him.

Shiro's going _insane_.

Lance, done with getting him wet, starts sucking in the head and dropping his mouth to envelope as much of his length as he can. Halfway down he pauses and slurps loudly, making Shiro fight the urge to thrust forward into the wet heat.

His mouth is-- amazing. Shiro feels lightheaded, like he's going to explode if he doesn't get his while dick in Lance's mouth as soon as possible.

His hand, the human one, trails down and tangles in Lance's chocolate curls, not pulling but just _holding._ For support, maybe, because Lance is _sucking out his soul through his dick._

Lance miraculously pushes down to the hilt, swallowing around Shiro's head and _what the fuck_. He only gagged, like, once. Does he just not-- not have a gag reflex? Is Shiro dreaming?

Lance bobs his head, keeping the head of Shiro's cock pillowed in his throat. Shiro fights the urge to thrust forward, caught up in one of the best blow jobs in his _life._

He gradually picks up his pace, gliding across the shaft of his cock effortlessly, humming softly. The vibrations tingle across his cock, making his jolt and tighten his grip in Lance's hair. He moans around his length and Shiro repeats the motion, jerking his hips in controlled thrusts at Lance's enthusiasm.

Lance meets his eye, blue orbs watering and glistening, and Shiro is so completely and utterly fucked that it's not even funny.

“Fuck, _Lance_ ,” Shiro grunts out. it feels like that's all he's capable of saying, to wrapped up in the sensations of _Lance._

When he looks down, he sees that Lance is palming at his own dick, desperate. _Fuck_. The thought of Lance, getting so turned on just getting Shiro's dick in his mouth, brings Shiro embarrassingly close to completion.

He babbles. “You look-- you look good like this, ya know? on your knees, mouth wrapped around my-- around my cock.” he breathes out. It's the truth. Lance looks like a dream, blue eyes hazily and pretty pink lips wrapped around him. He looks like every single one of Shiro's desperate fantasies, like sin incarnate.

Lance tongues at his length, drool leaking from his mouth. Shiro can feel a drop of sweat running down one of his balls. He's so _close--_

 _“Shit!”_ he grunts as he comes abruptly, euphoria overcoming (no pun intended) all of his nerves in a rush. He can't focus on anything but the feeling of release, of his toes curling against the tile.

Lance pulls off his length, leaving the last few spurts to catch across his lips and nose. Shiro can't look away, _won't_ look away, because he doesn't think he's ever seen something hotter than Lance's face painted with his cum.

Lance wipes his seed off of his face with trembling fingers, licking it off each digit without breaking eye contact. If Shiro hadn't just come, he probably would be hard again from the sight alone.

Lance clears his throat and stands on shaky legs, giving an almost awkward smile. “That was-- fun,” he says in a hoarse voice. Shiro blinks, his mind fuzzy and body relaxed, and absentmindedly nods. “I-- yeah.” he mumbles, mouth feeling heavy.

Lance pats his shoulder and moves to one of the benches lining the wall. He turns his head and winks at Shiro with a smirk. “Lets do it again sometime, yeah?”

Shiro can do nothing but nod dazedly. He wonders what kind of dopey expression is one his face. Lance giggles. “It's late. You should probably get some sleep, oh fearless leader!”

Shiro can't fight the smile on his face. “Yeah, I'll go do that. Thanks for-- for everything.” he stammers out. Lance giggles again. “Anytime. See you tomorrow.”

Shiro methodically walks away, wrapping himself in a towel and walking towards his room. He still feels out of it, but his previous tension has drained out of his body. Now he just wants to sleep.

Shiro laughs at an abrupt thought. “We'll, that's one way to relax,”

 

**Author's Note:**

> come kinkshame me on my [tumblr](https://smelly-milk.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/smellymilky?lang=en)


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